The Twisted Fate

Chapter 7 - A Stranger’s Eyes

Anna barely slept that night.

She tossed and turned, Damien’s words looping through her mind like a haunting melody she couldn’t silence. I know you’re scared. I know you’re running from something.

He wasn’t wrong.

For years, she had built walls around herself, protecting whatever remained of the girl she used to be. But one look from Damien had sent cracks splintering through those walls, threatening to bring everything crashing down.

Morning came too soon, dragging her back into the real world. She moved through her routine in a daze, exhaustion settling deep in her bones. By the time she reached the restaurant, she was running on fumes.

Magreth noticed immediately. “Jeez, you look like hell.”

“Thanks,” Anna muttered, tying her apron.

“Rough night?”

Anna hesitated before shrugging. “Something like that.”

Magreth leaned in, lowering her voice. “Did it have anything to do with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Broody?”

Anna tensed. “He’s just a customer.”

Magreth smirked. “Right. And I’m secretly a millionaire.”

Before Anna could respond, the bell above the door jingled. She turned, half-expecting Damien to waltz in like he owned the place.

But it wasn’t him.

It was her.

Gizelle.

Anna’s stomach twisted into a knot. She hadn’t seen her since that night at the convenience store, and she had hoped to keep it that way. But there she was, waltzing into the restaurant like she belonged there, all perfect curls and designer arrogance.

Gizelle’s sharp green eyes scanned the restaurant until they landed on Anna. A slow smile curled her lips as she sauntered over to the counter, placing a manicured hand on the surface.

“Well, well. Fancy seeing you here,” Gizelle mused, tilting her head. “Still playing waitress, I see.”

Anna’s grip tightened around the notepad in her hand. “What do you want?”

Gizelle feigned offense. “Is that any way to greet an old friend?”

Anna’s stomach churned at the word. Friend. Gizelle had once been her closest confidante. The girl she trusted most. And the girl who had helped ruin her life.

“I don’t have time for this,” Anna said flatly.

“Oh, but I think you do,” Gizelle said, voice dropping into something lower, something almost…threatening. “You see, Damien’s been awfully interested in you lately. Asking questions. Digging around.”

Anna’s breath hitched, but she masked it quickly. “So?”

Gizelle leaned in slightly, her smirk widening. “So, I figured I should remind you that some things are better left buried.”

A cold chill ran down Anna’s spine. She forced herself to hold Gizelle’s gaze, refusing to back down. “If you’re here to threaten me, you’re wasting your time.”

Gizelle chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, Anna. It’s not a threat. It’s just…friendly advice.”

With that, she straightened, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle on her coat. “Tell Damien whatever you want. But if you dig too deep, you might not like what you find.”

Anna’s pulse pounded in her ears as Gizelle turned on her heel and sauntered out of the restaurant, leaving behind an air of suffocating tension.

Magreth appeared at Anna’s side almost instantly. “What the hell was that?”

Anna swallowed hard, gripping the counter for support. “Nothing,” she lied.

But deep down, she knew better.

It was a warning.

Damien sat in his office, staring at the old case files spread out before him. His sister’s murder had been a closed case for years, the verdict neat and tidy—Anna Sinclair, found at the scene, covered in blood, convicted, and sentenced.

But it had never felt right. And now, after watching her, after seeing the way she carried herself, the doubt that had been a whisper in the back of his mind was turning into a roar.

His phone buzzed, pulling him from his thoughts.

A message from his investigator.

Found something interesting. We need to talk.

Damien wasted no time. He grabbed his coat and left his office, his mind racing. If there was even a chance that Anna wasn’t guilty, then that meant someone else was.

And he was going to find out who.

Anna sat in the break room, her thoughts a mess.

Gizelle’s words replayed in her mind. Some things are better left buried.

But she was tired of living like this. Tired of running. Tired of the guilt and fear that clung to her every move.

Maybe it was time to stop hiding.

Maybe it was time to fight back.